


Pursuit: The Sequel

by DirtyLarryStylinson



Series: Pursuit [2]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Dark Harry, Killing, M/M, Murder, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Read first story first, Rough Sex, Secrets, Sequel, Top Harry, Twisted, if you haven't, the story continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyLarryStylinson/pseuds/DirtyLarryStylinson
Summary: The sequel to Pursuit.With another unanticipated secret of Harry's uncovered just when Louis thought everything was perfect, their lives take another twisted turn as Louis realises how dark Harry really is.Can he be saved, or is his head just too far gone?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel.
> 
> Now, if you haven't read the first part to Pursuit, please please do, as you will have no clue what is happening otherwise!
> 
> Link:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5164454/chapters/11895371
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter contains a description which may be deemed graphic by some, so just keep that in mind. Thank you.

All of Louis' hope had completely deteriorated; every little ounce of assurance he had of a perfect life had just been eradicated, and he felt so stupid.

Without a form of explanation, he abruptly ended the FaceTime call with Niall and threw his phone carelessly over his shoulder, hearing the soft thud of it hitting the bedsheets. He didn't even _dare_ look up at that tally mark again, because all it did was torrent his head with a whirlwind of the messy past Harry had let him in on. He left the framed painting propped up against the wall, exactly where he had placed it before realisation struck him, and headed out of the bedroom.

He couldn't stop himself from jogging numbly down the stairs, throwing on his coat and slipping into his trainers, lazily stuffing the laces in rather than tying them up, and left the house with a slam of the door. Lacking his car, it was a wonder where he thought he was headed. He just couldn't stay in that house, not when Harry was due to be home in around half an hour now.

The city centre was too far for Louis to escape to, so he just started walking. His throat felt constricted with close tears, but he fought them as he felt too infantile to burst into tears about it. He should have expected it. Cars passed by, and Louis kept a strong face and kept up the brisk pace.

"Where the fuck am I going?" He found himself whispering aloud, lightly shaking his head in disbelief. What did running away achieve? He had no clue, but he didn't want that tally mark staring him in the face, _or_ Harry.

It was darkening outside, the sky a murky blue, and lampposts beginning to flicker on, cars starting to switch on headlights. Louis felt quite sick really when he thought about getting back home in the dark, because he couldn't hang out on the streets all night, it was dangerous. Plus, he had left his damn phone in the house and Harry would be worried to his core. Louis regretted leaving his phone behind now.

He must have been walking for a good twenty minutes, by which time his legs started aching, having to occasionally stop to catch his breath. He was travelling along one long road and didn't even have a destination. More time passed, more cars, and he had a headache now from the cold and his feet were sore. He was in such a daze that when he heard a car horn, he almost jumped out of his skin, glancing up swiftly to see that _Harry's car_ had come his way, headed back towards home.

"Shit!" He cursed to himself, picking up his speed, unable to see Harry's reaction due to the blinding headlights in his vision, but unable to mistake that recognisable registration plate.

Louis turned into the local park that was a small jog away, veering right and heading into the darkness of the fields, which were bleakly lit by a few surrounding streetlights. He felt scared for his life for some reason, his survival instincts of being chased kicking in, and he sprinted along the edge of the large opening field with a thudding heart. It only took a minute until he heard Harry.

"Louis! What the hell?" Harry yelled out, his voice carrying through the quiet night air, and Louis picked up into a sprint. He knew Harry was after him, and it terrified him.

"Go away!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Go home!"

"No! What the fuck is going on?!" Harry sounded out of breath, Louis knew he was sprinting, and he also knew that Harry was far quicker and more agile than him.

Louis let out a squeal of shock when Harry grabbed him by the shoulders from behind, twisting him around to face him in the low light. Louis could make out his face, never having looked so full of concern, and he shook out of Harry's grip fast.

"What are you doing, Lou? What's happened?" Harry panicked, voice softening, gripping onto Louis' wrist now.

Louis yanked his hand away, "Just get off."

"You're really fucking worrying me. Can you let me know what's happened?" Harry's impatience set in, eyebrows straight and chest heaving in anticipation.

"You should know." Louis muttered, looking timidly at his feet.

"What? Louis, speak up."

"I said, you should know!" Louis rose his voice massively, meeting Harry's eyes, two wild gazes.

"Know what?!" Harry exclaimed, flailing out his arms in oblivion.

Louis shook his head slowly, jaw locked, looking Harry dead in the eye all of a sudden. He left a pause before finally speaking exactly what had been eating away at his mind.

"Who did you fucking kill?"

Harry's face changed then. He relaxed his eyebrows, the tension leaving his face as a glassy look took over his eyes. It was the expression Louis _resented_ , the face he put on when he was deeply thinking, lost in his mind. He zoned out.

"Harry."

Harry seemed to shake from his stare into space, smoothing a hand down his face and unable to meet Louis' gaze. He took a couple of steps back, turning slightly to the side to look at the lining of trees instead of into Louis' scathing eyes.

"Say something." Louis demanded, crossing his arms angrily over his chest. "I'm going to ask you again, Harry. Who did you kill?"

"Who did I kill?" Harry queried, though it came out as more of a statement than a question, like a lost schoolchild who didn't know an answer, stalling the response.

"Yes. I'm not stupid, Harry, start talking." Louis gritted, eyes not leaving Harry's face. Harry let out a sound that was a mix between a breath and sound of frustration, rubbing over both of his eyes as a distraction.

"I don't like this." He whined, meeting eyes with Louis and shaking his head, suddenly sounding about ten years younger than he was - immature.

"You don't like what, getting fucking caught?" Louis criticised. He didn't like how scared Harry looked but he knew he had to do this, he couldn't let Harry get away with it.

"I don't know what to say." Harry shrugged, voice stern. "What do you expect me to say?"

"Well, you're admitting to it, then, I expect you to tell me who you bloody killed!" Louis raged. "What else would I mean? Give me a name, Harry."

"I don't _know_ , though," Harry desparetely said, trying to convey his apologies through their eye contact. "I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

"Their name."

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes, letting out a stark laugh which was far from humoured.

"Wow, fine. How did you know them, then, huh? I need facts, Harry, you've already hidden this from me!"

"I didn't." Harry muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Louis slowly asked, having slightly grasped what had been said.

"I didn't." Harry spoke up, meeting his eyes again. "I didn't know them."

Louis deeply inhaled, holding it momentarily before exhaling again.

"Okay." He whispered, more to himself than to Harry, trying to gather himself mentally. He tried to soften his voice more, knowing that he would probably get more information if he bottled up his seething rage from feeling so lied to. "Then why did you do it?"

He wanted a positive response, something that lightened up his thoughts on Harry again, but he got what could possibly be the worst ever response:

Harry shrugged.

"Why are you shrugging? You obviously know why." Louis slowly asked, adding it all up.

"No, I don't."

Louis took a staggered step back in disbelief, face contorting in suppressed disappointment and confusion. "You... don't know why you killed them?"

Harry slowly shook his head, confirming Louis' horror.

"Oh my _God_ ," Louis breathed, shaking his head for what must have been the one hundredth time that evening. "Oh my God, Harry. You... killed somebody _why_? Can you just confirm what I think you're saying?"

"Because I got the urge to."

Louis nodded, disheartened, having thought exactly what was true. Harry had killed in cold blood, completely ruthlessly, for no reason whatsoever. The tears were coming now, all his dreams of Harry being a transformed man disintegrating, and he ducked his head in shame and placed his hands over his eyes.

"I know you don't want me to hug you right now, but please don't cry." Harry soothed, voice still lacking much empathy. "I'm sorry, Lou, I really am."

"You're _sorry_?" Louis snapped, voice breaking halfway through, glancing up at Harry with livid and teary eyes. "Being sorry doesn't resolve the fact that you killed somebody because you got a fucking _urge_ , Harry! Do you realise how crazy that makes you sound?!"

"If you haven't worked out by now that I'm crazy, maybe you're crazy too." Harry muttered. He pointed at his own head before continuing. "This place, Louis, this head, it's _scary_. I've been fighting these awful thoughts for longer than I've known you, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself forever."

Louis wanted to hug Harry after hearing that, but he didn't. He kept his distance, the two metres between them, wiping away his tears and clearing his throat. He still had so many questions brimming in his mind, to the point where it was overflowing with whys and hows.

"How did you do it?" He squeaked out, voice just louder than a whisper. He didn't want to know the answer, but deep down knew he couldn't hide it away from himself. He had to know exactly what Harry knew.

"I did it in one punch." Harry darkly informed him, and Louis could have sworn he saw a proud smile pass over Harry's face briefly, but figured it was his paranoia. "Upper cut. Hit him beneath the chin, broke his neck. He couldn't breathe. I watched him die."

Louis took another two wary steps back, and Harry noticed his fear. He looked almost offended that Louis was scared.

"Why are you stepping away from me?" He asked, voice belittled. Louis wanted to mock him, ask how anybody could stand close to someone who had just given such a brutal description of a killing.

"I'd be mad not to. Where were you? When was it? I want to know everything, Harry, don't leave anything out." Louis demanded.

Harry drew in a deep breath and continued. "This was about two weeks ago, Louis. Night time, that night I told you I was working overtime. I wasn't, I'm so sorry, I needed some time to clear my head on my own after working so much and I was actually in the park we are stood in right now. I started getting the bad thoughts, didn't know how to restrain them, saw the gentleman walking nearby, he was insanely drunk, muttering nonsense. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop myself."

"He probably had a family, Harry." Louis hissed. "Kids, a job, a life. How was his disappearance not on the news? What did you do with the damn body?"

"I know he probably had a family, I've felt disgusted with myself ever since. I buried the body, Louis, in the ground under a massive hedge nearby." Harry informed him, voice empty, lacking any emotion now. The emptiness probably portrayed how he felt inside at that moment, the completely human part of him thinking too much about what he had done to that man, how he had completely ended his life without a valid reason whatsoever.

A silence fell over the two of them, neither of them knowing how to fill it. Harry did, a moment later, but Louis cut him off soon after.

"I said sorry to him right before I did it."

"What if his body is found, hmm?" He taunted. "They could take up this whole field looking for him if he's missing, Harry, have you not thought about that?"

"I know that. I'm awake every night worrying about it."

"This was supposed to be a fresh start, did you fucking forget that? You're already wanted in Doncaster, are you looking to be here _too_? Are you looking to set some sort of fucking record for yourself?"

"Don't be stupid, Louis, of course I'm not! I didn't want to hurt him, I wanted to stop, but I couldn't! I wish you'd understand that it's not me doing this, it's this fucking _brain_!" Harry roared, completely losing his patience altogether.

"Then we need to get you professional help!" Louis rose his voice too. "You needed it a long time ago, Harry, probably before you even met me!"

"I know we do." Harry sighed. "I need therapy, I know I do. I know I can fix myself, I hope I can."

In complete silence, they unanimously decided to head back over to Harry's car, which was parked at the side of the road. They got in, the quiet continuing, and Harry drove them the rest of the way home. Louis felt like a dark cloud was hanging over his head. He wished Harry had never done this, wished he was just a normal guy who didn't have such awful thoughts. He had such a tormented brain.

Harry was quick to hang the painting back on the wall when they got into the bedroom, wanting to stop both of them from thinking about it any longer. They didn't speak while they got ready to go to bed early, the atmosphere so silent that it was almost deafeningly so. No words were exchanged until they were lying in bed, in the pitch black, Louis facing away from him in the dark.

"What if you get an urge while I'm asleep, and I'm lying here next to you?" He quietly asked, though it was loud and abrasive against the previous quiet. He heard Harry sigh.

"Louis, I would never hurt you, don't be so ridiculous."

"But you already _said_ it, Harry. _You_ wouldn't, but your brain is completely separate. Irrational. How do I know I'm safe sleeping here tonight?"

"Because you keep me calm." Harry softly said, a smile almost behind those words. "You keep my thoughts positive, make me feel too happy to thing about anything more than how much I love you."

Louis didn't reply, unsure on how to fill the silence, but deep down he knew that he believed Harry's words. For now he believed it. 


	2. Chapter 2

The piercing alarm blaring from Harry's phone the next morning startled them both awake. Harry, with a prolonged, irritated groan, groggily sat up and swiped the alarm off, ceasing the sound. He then flopped straight back into a lying position, letting out long sigh.

"I don't want to go to work." He croaked out, voice scratchy with sleep. Louis usually loved the sound of it, but today he was too overwrought by the memory of last night, what had happened in the park.

"You've got to." He piped up, sitting up to set a positive example. "Come on, Harry."

"I haven't _got_ to," Harry playfully sang, rolling over onto his side so that he was facing Louis with a coy smile. "I could call in sick and stay here all day with you."

"But you shouldn't." Louis contradicted, throwing his half of the duvet cover off his body and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet. Harry loudly tutted in annoyance, sitting up himself.

"Louis." He sternly said, urging Louis to turn and look at him.

"What?"

"You're pissed off."

"I'm not." Louis shrugged, putting on a smile. "Maybe you're just paranoid."

Harry pouted his mouth to the side and nodded, breaking their momentary eye contact to concentrate on getting himself out of bed.

"Maybe I am, hmm?" He lifelessly asked, ruffling his bed-messed hair. "Do you need to use the bathroom? I've got to take a shower."

"Go ahead." Louis granted, gesturing a _'go forth'_ motion with his hands towards the bathroom. Harry smiled brightly at him, jumping up out of bed and tracing his finger up Louis' arm as he passed, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Louis loved that idiot.

He lingered in the centre of the bedroom for a moment, his mind not in a specific place to think what to do with himself. The sound of the shower running from in the bathroom sounded a moment or two later, better than a thick silence, and it soothed Louis a little. He peered back over at the painting, knowing that he would never be at ease as long as that tally mark was there. He strutted over to it in five strides, not hesitating to once again unhook it from its position and reveal that mark again.

The mark was in a biro, scarring the cream walls, and could only really be covered up by paint. He knew it would be a lot of effort to purchase the paint, in the town centre which was close to an hour away, just for a couple of streaks on top of Harry's confessional tally mark. He must have been stood in the same spot, observing the tally, for so long that Harry's quick shower was over a few minutes later, and he strolled back out into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. He sighed into the quiet when he found Louis ogling the mark.

"Lou, for fuck's sake, how many times can I apologise for that?" He gritted, continuing to move about the room, finding his clothes for the day in their wardrobe.

"I'm not looking for another apology, just a way to cover this up." Louis pondered, keeping his voice desolate of emotion.

"It _would_ be covered up, if you stopped taking the damn painting down." Harry argued, slipping into fresh underwear and ruffling his hair dry with the towel. "Put it back up, Louis, please."

"I mean a proper way, like paint. Do your grandparents have any cream paint in the shed?" Louis mused, turning to look at Harry, who was in his jeans now and buckling up his belt.

"Don't bother with paint." Harry rolled his eyes. "Just leave the painting up."

"I think it would be best to cover it up properly. The painting isn't flattering anyway, it looks better off the wall." Louis voiced, eyeing the almost bare wall once again like an interior designer deciding on a preferred look.

"Louis, I don't know if you remember me telling you, but writing on the wall for me is therapeutic. Remember?" Harry reminded, pulling a t-shirt over his head and quickly slipping is arms into it. "I'd prefer it if you left it there, untouched."

"I appreciate that, Harry, yeah. It's just... can't you mark it in a diary or something, on paper? Instead of graffiting it all over our bedroom wall." Louis suggested. "It'd probably be better that way anyway, otherwise you have a constant reminder of it."

"The reason I put it on the wall is because I can't exactly get rid of that wall, a diary I could throw away. I need to keep reminding myself what I've done so that I can overcome it." Harry ranted. "Is that okay with you?"

"Alright! Fine. I'm just not very happy with being reminded about it too." Louis admitted, hands up in surrender. "Finish getting ready, come on."

Harry mumbled something under his breath, something Louis didn't even bother to provoke. He began making his way towards the exit to their room, planning on going downstairs to make them both a quick breakfast before Harry had to go, but Harry quickly stopped him with a brighter sort of tone.

"Lou!"

"What?" Louis asked, softening his voice, turning to face Harry again, who was trying to unpick the shoe laces of one of his shoes, which seemed to have been done up too tightly.

"Boxing, I go down there tonight and see what it's all about here." He grinned. "Just remind me to bring all those documents I've been signing."

"Great!" Louis smiled. "What time?"

"About seven, I was told to get there. And you're coming with me."

"Am I now?" Louis chuckled. "When was that clarified?"

"Right now." Harry smirked. "Come with?"

"Of course. Are you driving us there? What do you have to bring?"

"Just have to bring myself and my gloves, I guess. Yes, I will drive us down there, Lou." Harry beamed. "But I _am_ nervous."

"Don't be, you'll do great." Louis reassured, leaning on the doorframe with a fond smile. "What do you have to do there?"

"Well, I won't be the only new person starting there tonight, plus guys who have been at this place for years will be there. I guess we just have to show what we can do, you know?"

"Did you..." Louis trailed off a little. "Are they letting you in the ring with others?"

Harry looked slightly taken aback, hesitating before replying. "Well, yes, Louis. What was I meant to do, tell them I killed an opponent? I would have never gotten in!"

"I know that, it's hard. Okay, Harry, I just want you to promise that you'll control yourself properly." Louis maturely distinguished, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "After what you told me last night, I think you'd be best off staying with a professional instructor, just practicing your technique."

"I don't _want_ that, Louis, I want to be in proper matches. This is probably the worst time I could try and convince you that I'm different when it comes to boxing." Harry sighed. "But do you get where I'm coming from?"

"Boxing relaxes you?" Louis offered. "I guess it is a good way for you to relieve what's built up, but not if you take it too far. You won't, will you?"

"I promise I won't." Harry pacted. "Absolutely not, I will restrain myself."

"Okay. Anyway, you've not got long now until you've got to leave. When do you finish tonight?"

"I'll be home by, like, half five." Harry informed him.

"Cool, look forward to seeing you." Louis smiled.

On the inside, he was worried. Deep down, he knew Harry would be able to restrain himself whilst boxing and work on his technique, but he couldn't help his apprehension surrounding it. He would really have to count on Harry, especially after last night's confessions.

* * *

Come six o'clock, Louis and Harry were in the latter's car, beginning the journey to their new local sports centre. Louis had looked at it online and the building was absolutely huge, definitely at least twice the size of the one in Doncaster. Harry was clad in casual sportswear attire, a loose, plain grey t-shirt and shorts, as instructed by the boxing mentors.

He was rather joyously singing along to the music on the radio, which was music to Louis' ears, most likely trying to extinguish his nerves through song. They arrived after a gruelling fifty minutes, battling through the last of the rush hour traffic, and pulled into the massive car park. It was difficult to find a single space to park in due to the excessive vehicles already occupying them.

"I hope they're not all going to this boxing class." Harry joked. "Oh, Lou, there's one more thing I forgot to mention."

" _What_?" Louis whined, sick and tired of the last minute bombshells.

"This is an audition." Harry stated, as he swiftly removed the car keys from the engine and moved out of the car. Louis furrowed his eyebrows, unclipping his seatbelt and following suit, slamming the car door behind him.

"An audition? Harry, how popular is this place?"

" _Extremely._ " Harry informed, as he scooped his kitbag from the boot of the car, clutching the filled-out papers in his free hand. "Which is why I have minimal hope of really getting in."

"Don't feel disheartened, Harry." Louis supported him, as they started the walk towards the leisure centre's large, glass entrance doors. There were other young men making their way towards it, each carrying their own kitbags and worried demeanours.

"Can't help it." Harry muttered. 

There was already a queue of four men in front of the reception desk, signing in before being directed through another set of double doors. Once Harry was at the front, he scribbled down his name and signature before leading Louis through the double doors.

"Just look for signs towards the boxing arena." Harry thought aloud, eyes scanning over the signposted metal slabs overhead. "Here, this way."

They finally entered through the final set of double doors, after winding through many hallways, and the room was huge. Grey concrete walls and floors, several smaller rings, and one grand one in the centre. The room was packed with around forty-or-so men already, some warming up with their gloves on, unique numbers on pieces of paper pinned to their t-shirts, and Harry and Louis moved to join the queue in front of a table where numbers were being assigned.

The queue moved fast, and soon Harry was given a sheet of paper with **37** on it. They were instructed to take a seat in the provided seats surrounding the grand ring, and that he would be needed once his number was called.

"Well this is terrifying," Harry nervously laughed, as he and Louis sat amongst many others in the seating area, "I think they want to leave us oblivious to what's going to happen, to show our real ability."

"You're going to do just fine." Louis assured, patting Harry's arm. "I'm here to support you."

"I appreciate that." Harry smiled at him. "I'm just nervous."

Then room began getting more and more packed, people sat either side of Harry and Louis now, and amongst the crowd Louis felt a pair of eyes towards he and Harry. He glanced up to see a man who was twisted around on his chair far on their left, around Harry's age or maybe a little older, looking straight at Harry. His hair was gelled back completely, dark brown, almost black hair. He had a stupid scrutiny behind his gaze, completely drinking in his competition almost.

Harry could sense his gaze, looking right back with a straight face, though his jaw was slightly locked, probably wondering why he was being stared down. The man seemed to be observing Harry's biceps, evidently sizing up his competition now, and he finally turned away to face the main ring again with a slight smirk.

"He's probably looking for who his competition is, Harry. Take it as a compliment." Louis whispered in Harry's ear before he could mention it at all.

"I know." Harry softly smiled. "Not going to let it get to me."

"Good." Louis breathed to himself.

The 'auditions' got under way soon after, one of the mentors stepping into the ring and silencing everybody immediately. He announced what was going to happen: two numbers would be randomly selected, and those contenders would have a match. The judges would then select who would be selected for the programme.

"Shit." Harry laughed out of nerves to Louis. "Kinda more worried now."

"You can beat any of these men." Louis whispered.

Harry eyed a particularly stocky man sat a few rows in front, laughing to himself and shaking his head in disagreement. "Not _any_ of them."

"Okay, we've got our first contenders, let's have numbers 31 and 17!" The manly-voiced mentor called out, causing an uproar of excitement from the men. Two stood up and headed towards the ring, and this was already too much for Louis.

"Number 31, Mr. Lee McPherson, and number 17, Mr. Edward Grayson." The other mentor said into the microphone.

The bell sounded after a referee muttered to the two men beforehand, and the match began. Number 17 was immediately overpowering number 31, the crowd roaring out incoherent things, and Louis wanted to block his ears but didn't want to look too out of place. He wanted to run out with Harry pronto, before the dreaded number 37 was called out.

Number 17 won in the end, applause from the crowd, and number 31 angrily left the ring without any congratulations to his opponent.

"Someone's got an attitude problem." Louis chuckled to Harry.

"Damn right." Harry chuckled, lightly shaking his head. "You know, there are about sixty men in here, I reckon I'll have some time to relax befor--"

"Number 37 and number 53, let's go!" The man declared just moments later, cutting Harry off instantly. Louis felt like his heart had entered his throat at that moment.

"Just my luck." Harry chuckled, yet he confidently stood up with his gloves and made his way towards the ring. Louis was terrified. He realised he had never seen Harry in a proper match before, and he was just worrying that Harry would veer out of control if he got too cocky.

Louis looked over to eye Harry's competitor... the man who had been scrutinising him just moments ago. Typical. And the man looked so damn smug that he had been put with Harry, as if he had something to prove, stuffing on his boxing gloves. They looked so tacky against Harry's Cleto Reyes.

They stepped into the ring with a round of applause, and the immediate difference was their height: the other man was around 5 foot 10, craning his neck up slightly to look Harry in the eye, who was around five inches taller. The referee was talking to them, discreetly to everybody else's knowledge, going over the rules.

"Number 37, Mr. Harry Styles, and number 53, Mr. Marcus Bradley."

Louis was completely holding his breath at first, to the point where he had to remember to breathe again, but before the match could begin, Marcus grabbed the microphone from the mentor to speak into it.

"Just letting you know, Harry Styles, you'll be going home disappointed." He cockily declared, before there was an uproar of excitement from the crowd. Louis was livid, wanting to storm down there and knock Marcus out himself, but he settled down once he saw the way Harry nodded so calmly with an amused smile.

"A bit of fighter talk there, that's what I like to see. Let's go!" The mentor whooped, before he moved out of the way and the bell tolled. Louis felt like he couldn't even watch.

Marcus immediately tried to take then upper hand, going for close-range jabs, but Harry managed to dodge them all expertly, his gloves up by his face in guard. Then it was like Harry entered his _boxing state_ , springing into action in an instant. His technique was incredible to watch, delivering hooks which Marcus was unable to dodge, and maneuvering around the space almost professionally. It was clear that Marcus was very good too, stepping up his game and coming back with power, and it was an adrenaline-fuelled, rough match where the power was continually shifted. Louis was hoping, _praying_ at this point, that Harry wouldn't shift into overdrive here and go too far.

He managed not to. All it took was one particularly clever uppercut from Harry, when Marcus was least expecting it, sending him to the floor of the ring, and he was counted out by the referee. There was a thunderous torrent of excitement from the crowd, including Louis, who couldn't have been more proud. He overheard people discussing how incredible Harry had been, _'Holy shit, his technique!' 'Glad I wasn't against him, Jesus!'_

Marcus got to his feet moments later, brushing himself down with an angry expression, glaring up at Harry, who had a small smile on his face but nothing too victorious.

"Absolutely brilliant!" The mentor screeched out, using a hand to raise the sounds of appreciation from the crowd even more. "Fantastic ability, Harry, my goodness. But, on this occasion, I think I'm going to have no choice but to put the two of you through."

Harry nodded in understanding, Louis feeling his heart sink more as Harry's victory had been slightly decreased, but was happy enough that Harry had won himself a place. He was going to be over the moon about this.

As Marcus left the ring, he violently budged past Harry, too roughly for it to be an accident. But Harry was unfazed by it, shrugging it off and heading back to Louis for a celebratory hug.

Louis was so proud, and for now it took his mind off the fact that Harry had killed again. He felt temporarily at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, Louis really shouldn't have let Harry fight after what he had told him. He's just trying to keep Harry happy!
> 
> Will Harry joining this place be good for him?


	3. Chapter 3

Harry received massive praise after returning to his seat from the boxing ring. Louis loved seeing how glowing Harry was from it all, his smile bright and eyes lit up in glee, yet his opponent, Marcus, still looked stubborn about it. He was glaring Harry down from across the room for the rest of the auditions, nudging his friends and whispering things before looking Harry's way. It was surreal that he could be so openly brash, having just been beaten (even if they did both get through.)

"I'll let him admire," Harry whispered to Louis, a smirk etched across his face. "Because clearly he likes to stare."

"I don't blame him." Louis chuckled, patting Harry's leg. "You take this really well though, how much of a dick he's being."

"I see it as jealousy. Yeah, he's good and whatever, but I knocked him to the ground." Harry reminded. Louis smiled proudly, knowing Harry was a much better contender than Marcus was.

By the time the auditions were over, thirty-two men remained out of the sixty previously, and it was verging on half past ten that evening.

"So, a massive congratulations to every boxer still seated! I'll be looking forward to seeing you all very soon, where we'll get into the _really_ good stuff." The mentor announced, deviously rubbing his hands together. "But from us, goodnight! Have a safe journey home everybody."

Everybody gathered together their things and people began filing out of the building, giving their thank-yous to the mentors before doing so. Marcus left Harry with a very scathing glare before he and his loudly laughing group exited the building. What a prick.

"Oh, hold on, Harry! Harry Styles!" The mentor, Alan's, recognisably thick Scottish accent called out behind them, right before the two of them reached the double doors. They turned on their heels to find him strolling over with a large smile. "Quick word?"

Louis never liked it when somebody wanted a 'quick word', but the man's grin extinguished any major worry he had.

"Yeah, sure." Harry smiled, placing his heavy bag back down and sticking his hands into his pockets.

"You are _incredible_ , may I say. How long have you been boxing?" Alan inquired, head tilted aside in interest.

"Thank you, Sir. Few years now." Harry nodded, after making a very cute thinking face. "It's the only thing I've found to be... _therapeutic._ "

Very.

"Interesting, I've never had it described as therapeutic. Anyway, I won't keep you both for long, but I just wanted to let you know that you completely smashed that audition, you were much better than Marcus. The only reason I put you both through was because he was the normal standard of good, whereas you're _exceptionally_ good."

Harry seemed to be blushing a little bit at the praise, something Louis had never seen him do. "Wow, I'm so grateful to hear that, thank you very much!"

"Absolutely no problem, lad. So just to let you know now, I may be pairing you up with some of our more experience fighters, guys who I have had in my club for years."

"Wow." Harry repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "Thank you, Sir."

"Call me Alan." He granted, clapping Harry welcomingly on the back. "I'll see you in a couple night's time."

"Yes, see you then. Have a good night, Alan." Harry waved, before he and Louis continued their exit.

"My boxing champion." Louis cooed, snaking his hand down to join with Harry's. "You really held it together too, I'm proud of you. If this is helping you, I'm all for it."

"It really is, Lou. I think this can be a step to curing me, you know? Actually being able to fight again, in the ring, against other guys." Harry said, as they left the building and entered the humid August night again. "I promise."

"Let's hope so." Louis sighed. He really did feel optimistic about this, that it could become Harry's outlet for any anger he was feeling inside. He really wanted to believe Harry had it in him to be normal. It was all he had ever wanted.

* * *

Louis realised that he had never actually explained to Niall why he had completely freaked out before ending their FaceTime call. Niall had been bombarding him with texts since the night before.

 **Niall:** _Mate are u gonna explain what you saw?!!!!_  
**Niall:** _Pretty worried you know, u okay!?_  
**Niall:** _Loooooouis!!!!!_  
**Niall:** _C'mon man reply ur blanking me now_

Louis felt kind of bad, knowing he would have to reply at some point, so that Niall didn't end up calling the police or something. He decided he would put his answer simply.

 **Louis:** _Niall! I'm so sorry for not replying since last night and for suddenly ending the call!! Just some weird circumstances._

Niall replied almost immediately, as though he had been hunched over his phone waiting for a reply for the last 24 hours.

 **Niall:** _Way to keep me hanging Lou! What do u mean weird circumstances,, you looked terrified!!!!_

Louis was contemplating whether or not to tell Niall the real reasoning behind his reaction. Because he knew for a fact that Niall was sometimes in contact with Jay, Louis' mum, and didn't want him relaying that on to her and worrying the hell out of her.

 **Louis:** _Idk whether to actually say because you might tell my mum and she will get worried._

 **Niall:** _Ur worrying me now!!  
Can you say plz? I won't tell her I promise._

Okay. Well, what bad would it really do? It wasn't like Niall didn't know about Harry's previous murders. He could maybe just leave out the part that it was an urge killing.

 **Louis:** _It's Harry. He...well guess._

 **Niall:** _Louis did he kill someone again....._

Wow, it wasn't so great that Niall guessed it so quickly. Obviously that meant people sensed that Harry had it in him to do it again.

 **Louis:** _Yes._

He locked his phone and refused to watch Niall typing. He couldn't stand what it would say, knowing he would be immediately berated for staying with Harry (who was too busy watching Downton Abbey downstairs with his mum, sister and grandmother to notice Louis' frantic texting.) Louis checked his phone after a minute to find a lengthy text from Niall.

 **Niall:** _What a surprise!!! For God sake Lou are you kidding?!?!?!  
That is absolutely madness, why are you staying there???? What if he kills you  >:( do you even feel safe anymore? Who did he kill?!!_

Louis couldn't help but laugh to himself at Niall's excessive use of punctuation and questions, despite then topic hardly being a light one.

Was he kidding? No.  
Why was he staying there? Because he was in love with Harry.  
What if Harry kills Louis? He wouldn't.  
Did Louis even feel safe there? Yes, he was content.  
Who did Harry kill? Well, Niall didn't even have to know too much about that.

Louis didn't reply with a massive amount of detail, just basics.

 **Louis:** _Doesn't matter who for now Niall. What matters is I feel safe, I am safe, and Harry loves me and I love him and he will never hurt me. Okay? I'm fine, I will text you every day :)_

It seemed to be enough for Niall to keep him content.

 **Niall:** _Ok bud as long as ur certain!!!! Come visit again soon, we all miss ya_

Fair enough. Niall was inevitably going to spread his newly found news on to Liam, which Louis didn't mind all too much, so long as they didn't begin pestering him with their worry every day. They didn't have to be worried about Louis' well-being, he was fine. The only thing Louis himself was concerned about was Harry's own health, and how he needed to be helped. That was all.

* * *

"So I found the Facebook page for the boxing place." Harry mused, sat at the desk with his laptop in front of him. Louis glanced up from his phone to glance over at him.

"And?"

"Well, Alan posted a status about how everybody did well, and blah blah blah, then I looked at the comments on it..."

Louis got up, discarding his phone altogether and placing his hands on Harry's shoulders as he looked at the screen.

"That Marcus guy is a prick, Harry." Louis rolled his eyes as soon as he saw the comment he had left on the status:

 **Marcus Bradley:** _Pretty sure you should disqualify that harry styles guy, he must be on some steroids or something :/_

He comment had four likes, all presumably people who were part of Marcus and the dick brigade.

"Such a prick," Harry snapped, "Steroids? For fuck's sake, he just can't take that I beat him."

"That's exactly it, Harry, he's so pathetically jealous, it's ridiculous. Take this as a massive compliment, how much of an arse he's being, it's quite funny."

"Not when everybody can see that comment." Harry sighed.

"Hey look, someone just replied to his comment." Louis nudged him, pointing at the screen to where a new comment had just popped through.

 **Eddie Bradshaw:** _Yo shut up with ur bitching about other guys, ur obviously just a jealous little bitch who can't take that he got fuckin destroyed in that ring. Nobody is on steroids here, I can tell that guy just has crazy good technique._

"Nice guy," Harry smiled, "Glad not everybody's gonna be turning against me."

He clicked onto Eddie's profile and sent a friend request, which was accepted just moments later. Harry then liked Eddie's comment before deciding to shut his laptop and forget about it for a while.

"I don't wanna make any enemies already." Harry shrugged. "I hardly did anything _wrong_."

"You did nothing wrong at all, love. But when you're as good at something as you are at boxing, you're going to get the jealous ones who want to put you down." Louis slotted his face between Harry's neck and shoulder, embracing Harry's gorgeous scent and the warmth of his skin. "You'll definitely be making more friends than that stuck-up piece of work."

"Well I hope so." Harry exhaled sharply, before bringing his hand up to card through Louis' hair. "Do you think I should tell my sister about the guy in the park?"

Louis froze at the sudden topic change, furrowing his eyebrows in thought and bringing his head back up, away from Harry's touch.

"Why would you tell her?" He whispered, keeping his voice low as he knew Harry's family were just downstairs in the living room.

"Because I feel guilty for hiding it from them." He admitted. "And I feel like she would be the most understanding about it."

"But then you'd get all the worry, she'd keep asking you questions, you'd have to relive it all again. Maybe you would end up having to tell her about Charlie too, then she would be worried sick." Louis reminded. "Would you really want that?"

"I don't know if that's how she would react. But I see where you're coming from," Harry shrugged, "Just glad you know, at least. I couldn't have kept that to myself for long."

"It seems like a scary thing to just bottle up. But we're going to fix you, and boxing is going to help with that, focusing all your thoughts and energy on that. Just so long as you don't get too many complete and utter pricks ruining it." Louis rolled his eyes, openly referencing to Marcus.

He liked the Eddie guy, hated Marcus. Hopefully there would be less people like the latter, but they still had to meet the more _experienced_ boxers at the academy, the ones who were going to be so fuelled by their egos that it may be unbearable. And they were the exact ones Harry was going to be put up against.

Louis just hoped he could hold it together mentally, not enough to break and do anything he would regret. _God,_ he was praying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep it together Harry,  
> Don't lose your cool.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry's family were ecstatic once they found out the news about the boxing academy, though Louis could sense that Anne was a little worried, for the same reasons as Louis had been.

"Will you be in fights, Harry? Or will you just be training again?" She queried, taking a sip from her tea. They were all sat in the grand living room: Louis, Harry, Anne, Gemma, and Harry's grandparents.

"In fights," Harry excitedly said, his face radiant, and Louis felt awful for him. "I've wanted to be for ages, finally getting my chance again!"

Anne exchanged a worried glance with Harry's grandmother, before turning back to him.

"Okay, and you think you will be able to control yourself? Be honest with me." She demanded, though her soft facial expression showed that she wasn't angry at him.

"Of course I will." Harry sighed, looking like he was close to rolling his eyes. "I've changed, mum."

That was the biggest lie he could have told her, and Louis felt himself tense upon hearing it. The way Harry could so openly lie about that, how he's changed, when just two weeks ago he had showcased exactly why he _hadn't._ The real answer was that he wanted to have changed, wanted self-control, but something in his brain was tugging him the other way.

"You know, you _have_ changed, by getting taller and stronger than you were during the last... incidents." Anne cautiously added. "Surely it'll be even harder for you to control yourself if you're more powerful."

It was a hugely tense topic, with a subtle reference to the incident with Harry's father, and all of a sudden Louis felt so out of place there. It was a family matter, something they had all been overcoming, and he was just there on the side like an irrelevant tag-along.

"So?" Harry snapped. "Why can't you just be happy for me? It's not like I'm going to barge into the fucking ring and snap somebody's fucking neck!"

"Harry Styles, do _not_ use that language on your mother!" His grandfather cut in. "And you're certainly not in a position to be making comments like that. Grow up and accept that you're wrong."

Louis was staring at his hands, feeling unable to defend Harry in any way against his own family, refusing to look up. Why had he put himself into this life?

"I'm not wrong." Harry childishly muttered to himself. "You know, I could be really great at boxing, maybe even make a living out of it. It's you guys who are holding me back. Come on, Lou, let's go." 

He got to his feet, and Louis obediently got up to follow, giving a sorry look to Harry's family members before trailing off behind him.

"They don't know a fucking thing." Harry muttered to himself, an angry undertone. "Fucking pathetic, all of them."

"Don't let it get to you so much, Harry. They're only being cautious, I was too, remember?"

"Yeah, okay."

Harry's mad outburst towards his mum was yet another example of his inability to keep his anger at a low. He had dangerously random bursts of it, then it simmered down in an instant and was _gone._

 

Harry was set to head down to the boxing academy again after work the next evening, to start his training there. Louis was incredibly worried, thinking of the guy who was commenting things about Harry and steroids online, all the likes it had, and the fact that Harry was going to be meeting (and maybe competing with) some of the really high-rank guys there. Harry, bless him, was too awestruck to be worried, telling Louis over and over again how excited he was. It was quite sad, the reality that maybe things wouldn't work out in the end.

Harry was full of adrenaline when he got in from work, changing straight into his boxing attire and filling up his water bottle at the kitchen sink while Louis flicked through a Kerrang magazine.

"Do you think they'll pair me with somebody really good?" Harry wondered, screwing the top on his bottle. "I hope so, it'll be a challenge, won't it?"

"Just keep control in mind, yes?" Louis reiterated, closing the magazine and setting it aside. "Control. And take a step back if you feel like you're starting to lose it."

"I know, Lou, don't worry. I'm not feeling cocky like I was when I killed the first boxing guy." Harry smiled. Actually smiled. Okay.

"Right, okay. Keep it that way, just see it as a friendly match, because that's what it is, Babe." Louis stood up and wrapped him in a hug, embracing the warmth of his taller, broader self.

Harry hummed in agreement against Louis' neck, so Louis giggled at the vibration, before Harry finished getting everything together before they had to leave. Louis was tagging along again, which he figured he would be whenever Harry went, watching over him like a fucking guardian angel. At least he could sit on one of the rickety metal chairs and treat himself to a lukewarm cup of tea from the make-it-yourself refreshment table, or some weak orange juice - nice.

They arrived at ten minutes to seven that evening, Harry swerving the car into a free space. The car park wasn't as busy today, luckily, so the process of walking in and finding the boxing rings again was not so nerve-racking.

It was reasonably packed, with all the guys who had been chosen, and Louis was quick to pick out Marcus in amongst the crowd. That stupid prick, looking so smug with a hairband pushing back his gelled fringe. Eww.

"It's so exciting being here!" Harry mused with a smile, like a child in Disneyland, so adorably oblivious to the fact that Marcus was nudging his friends and pointing at him from across the room. Louis made sure to glare.

"I'm glad you like it here, Haz," He grinned, finally peeling his eyes away from the group of twats. "It'll be like your second home soon, won't it?"

"Most likely." Harry smiled. His eyes finally fell onto Marcus and his friends, who were still looking his way with smug little grins. "What are they staring at?"

"Perfection." Louis giggled. "They're jealous. Again. Ignore them, love."

"I really don't get what I've done wrong, it's not my fault I'm good at this." Harry shrugged. "It's not like I've said or done anything to provoke them."

"Clearly that Marcus guy just can't take losing. Don't take it personally." Louis advised. "Now go and stand with everybody else, find someone nice. I'll be sat right here, waiting for you."

Louis took a seat amongst the other family and friends who were waiting for the boxers, sending Harry off with a radiant smile. Harry and the other boxers were greeted by Alan and a few other mentors, who were carrying large duffel bags full of focus pads, and Louis decided to go on his phone for a while to make time pass a little faster. He knew it would probably be a two-hour session, which drained him to even think about, but he was proud enough of Harry to sit through all of it (even if he was just on his phone.)

"I'd like you all to choose somebody to work with for this evening," Alan announced, clutching his clipboard, "And stand together, in pairs."

Marcus came strolling over to Harry in an instant, a coy smile playing on his smug little face. "What do you say, big guy, you and me?"

Louis was watching in hatred at Marcus' clearly sarcastic play of kindness, though he didn't intervene in any way. Harry seemed to find it amusing, the way Marcus was trying to be so casual and funny, cocking an eyebrow.

"Sure, little guy." Harry hastily replied back, immediately gaining the upper hand by getting to use that nickname on him. Marcus clearly didn't like it, nodding with his mouth forming a straight line, and he grabbed he and Harry a pair of focus pads.

It all started off swimmingly; just some friendly hooks and jabs to the pads, nothing competitive or aggressive. Harry was being so friendly and smiley that it broke Louis' heart, yet all Marcus did was scowl in response. Typical.

It was later on when things got a little messier. They had gone through an hour of exercises, a long and pretty intense warm-up, when Alan called for a break.

"Right, everybody take five."

Harry strolled over to Louis while taking a long swig from his water bottle, using his discarded jacket to wipe away a layer of sweat from his forehead before falling down into the chair beside Louis.

"Hi, my little fighter." Louis smirked. "How's it going with the prick?"

Before Harry could even respond said 'prick' was cockily sauntering over.

"Styles."

Harry quirked his head up to look at the stocky man, "Huh?"

"I just want to clear something up," Marcus jeered, his friends close behind him, like his personal backup. "About that look you keep giving me."

Harry literally rolled his eyes. "What look?"

"Don't roll your eyes now, that's not the best move you could make now." Marcus almost had a threatening tone to his voice now, and Louis so badly wanted to stand up and slap the living daylights out of him. What an utter moron.

"I just rolled my eyes, is that illegal?" Harry stretched his arms out above him, so casually that it came across as indifference, which Louis loved. He was completely unfazed by Marcus' attempt at gaining dominance, which was going to be impossible for him to do.

"It isn't illegal, but it _irritates_ me." Marcus seethed.

"Then walk away." Harry smiled, a massive smile that screamed 'fuck you.' Marcus seemed to be getting more pissed off, and Louis was gripping the sides of his chair so hard that his fingers were going white.

"Are you trying to start a fight with me or something?" Marcus called him out, turning in shock to his friends to urge them to back him up, calling on Harry to be a man and stand up.

"I'm not looking to fight, no, because unlike you, I don't need to do that to prove myself." Harry smugly responded. "I already proved myself by beating you on the first day, unless you want a rerun of that?"

"Harry." Louis whispered in warning, knowing he had to step in at some point to prevent Harry from getting too negatively involved.

"Aww, is your little boyfriend keeping you calm?" Another man chipped in, pouting out his lower lip. "How adorable."

Harry stood up all of a sudden, chair scraping back, towering over all of them, and Marcus acrually took a little step back. "Leave him alone."

"Or what?" Marcus warned. "I'll have you know, I knocked a guy out in one punch not too long ago."

 _Harry_ killed _a guy in one punch not too long ago._

He nodded slowly, a smile curling up onto his lips. "Wow, how impressive."

"You sarcastic prick, bet you haven't done any better."

He was being provoked. Louis wanted to literally drag him out of there, but it was already too late, as Harry had spoken before he had thought.

"I killed a man in one punch."

There was a silence over Marcus and his friends, and Louis' heart was racing, head screaming _no, no, no!_ It was only Harry's first proper day there and he was already fucking it up.

"...what?" Marcus slowly asked, taken aback a little.

"Clearly you don't understand a joke, then." Harry smiled, finally turning to sit back down. "God, get a sense of humour, all of you."

"Fuck you." Marcus and his followers moved away, and Louis was still staring at the space that they had just occupied.

"Sorry." Harry immediately apologised in a whisper, and Louis found himself lightly shaking his head.

"Harry, it's your first day here," He mused in stress, eyes still on the same spot, "And you went and blurted out one of your biggest fucking secrets to, who could only be described as, your mortal enemy."

"I didn't mean to, I just--"

"Got too cocky?" Louis cut him off, linking eyes with him to raise an eyebrow. "Which is exactly what you said you wouldn't do?"

"No, I just... I was kidding."

"But you weren't, Harry, because it's the truth. I'll be honest, I'm dreading you stepping into the ring with anybody after that."

Harry looked a little disheartened, though he got to his feet when Alan started calling everybody over again.

"I'll start controlling it now, Louis. I'm just getting into the swing of it." Harry commented, a sorry look, before wandering back over to the group again.

Louis had never felt so tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't going to be a hugely long story, and I don't even know if anybody is still going to want to read it. But if you are, by any chance, then please comment below:
> 
> Would you mind if this had an **unhappy** ending? :$ (no, not a killing if Louis or any other major characters)


	5. Chapter 5

Louis observed Harry rather closely whenever they were out and about together. He was such a _gentleman_ ; holding doors for people; helping little old ladies reach things on the highest shelves in shops; saying the generic 'please's and 'thank you's... yet he was hiding something so ridiculously dark that anybody would struggle to believe it. Only Louis knew about his latest hellish act.

And he was absolutely dying to tell someone in Harry's family about what he knew, mainly Gemma - who seemed the most understanding at times - but he knew it would only further throw everything into a panicked frenzy, and he had to be loyal to Harry. It just felt very lonely, like he too was stuck in Harry's dangerously stirred up head.

 

The first inkling that things were to start going wrong showcased itself two days later. Harry had gone off to work early again, and Louis was sat in the living room with Gemma, eating a bowl of cereal. It seemed bad news stories always came to his attention when he was eating cereal, as he could recall with the age-old Charlie Dyer news story, but this time he was filled with more of a hot sense of terror, spiking in his chest. Gemma wasn't paying too much attention, her focus primarily on picking the sunflower seeds out of her toast, but Louis couldn't look away from the screen once he heard the professionally scripted sentence being read out.

_"The body of missing man, Howard Dovenhall, 47, was uncovered early this morning in Greenborough Park."_

On screen were scenes of a crime scene: the flashing lights of emergency vehicles igniting blue and red flares across the screen; the unmistakable shape of a human body wrapped in a body bag hitched up on a stretcher; officials interviewing people and taking notes.

Louis wanted to scream. He found himself pinching his arm, just to make sure he was actually awake, and felt the sting. Gemma's interest had been piqued as she noticed what was going on on the television screen, glancing up and rubbing her hands together to rid of the bread seeds stuck to her palms.

"Hmm..." She hummed to herself, and Louis was scared for a moment that she was adding things up; the correlation between a murder and her local brother. Luckily, this wasn't the case. "At least his family will know now and can stop searching. Shame when something like this happens."

"Yeeeah," Louis drawled out, and was maybe being a tad over-casual and sorrowful, trying to deter his voice from shaking, "It _is_ a shame."

Gemma had no awareness that her brother could be at hand with this; for all she thought she knew, Harry hadn't done anything like this for a couple of years. She had no idea about Charlie Dyer, and now nor Howard Dovenhall. Another name to add to the list.

On screen, it cut to a photograph of a man, grinning with cigarette-yellowed teeth and a red, plump face, smiling at the camera with a beer in hand, greying hair disheveled and lacking on his head. Beneath read: 'Howard Dovenhall, loving father and husband, 1970 - 2018.' Louis felt his heart sink: this man was loved, and he looked _happy._ He was a husband and father; he had a wife and children who he had been ripped away from.

The scene cut back to the News Studio, a solemn-faced woman clutching a stack of papers, continuing on the televised script, with Louis and Gemma sadly listening on: _"Howard Dovenhall is described by his family and friends as a cheerful man, who would go to great lengths for those he loved. He disappeared from his home after an argument with his wife, and was last seen by witnesses leaving Leavesgate Pub on the high street, around 11PM. It is speculated that he was heavily intoxicated, however detectives are looking into this further to determine how he ended up dead and buried. More details to follow."_

Another dreary news story followed, and Gemma immediately grabbed the remote control and switched off the television altogether.

"That's enough of that." She sighed, placing it down again, staring off into space. "Sad, things like that. Scary to think it's so nearby to us, that someone who's killed a man..." She seemed to trail off. This time Louis _knew_ she was adding something up, he could tell by his way her face fell ever so slightly, a crumple of the inner brow, mouth hanging open just a little. "...could live so close to us."

Louis wanted to question her then: _'Do you know? Have you realised? Please talk to me.'_ But he didn't. And Gemma didn't say anything to answer any of those questions, instead standing up, wiping the crumbs from her lap, and heading off to the kitchen to put her plate away.

* * *

If this case was anything like the Charlie case, then they were in trouble. Back then, they had thought they were safe, that they'd get away with it, but that had all come crumbling down when Harry's fingerprint had been found at the scene. Surely they'd find many fingerprints on the body of Howard, or a hair strand, anything to draw them to Harry. Then they'd be aware of his boxing altercation, another strike, and he would be put straight behind bars.

Once Louis had migrated upstairs, stomach churning with worry, he began a frantic streak of calling Harry. He knew Harry was at work, he just didn't care; he couldn't wait another seven or so hours. On about the eighth attempt, Harry finally picked up.

"Louis, what is it? I'm kind of in trouble with my manager now, seeing as my phone wouldn't stop flashing." Harry snapped. Louis rolled his eyes.

Louis spoke at a quiet volume, knowing that Gemma and Anne were home. "Trouble with your manager? Tragic." He sarcastically began. "Try trouble with the _police_ , Harry, if you're caught! They found the body of the fucking man you killed!"

There was a very heavy silence then. He could hear Harry's dense breathing, knew he was there, but it took a good minute for Harry to produce words in response.

"Shit." That's all he could say. "Shit!" Then a little louder.

"Your fingerprints are going to be all over that body, Harry." Louis stressed. "What are you supposed to do now, huh?"

He heard a sharp sigh, one that pierced his eyes through the speaker, before Harry continued. "I tried not to touch his skin too much, Louis. Dragged him by his clothes and then took those, left him in just his underwear, burnt the others."

It was stupid that Harry thought justifying his actions would make this all okay; he had killed a man in cold blood. A stranger, for no reason. Did he not have the right to be in deep shit by now? Of course he did. But Louis was always going to be on his side.

"There's always something else," He groaned, "They always find something. If it isn't forensic, it'll be an eye witness, and then a failure to provide an alibi if they somehow link you to it. What if somebody saw you in the park that night? You'll be questioned immediately!"

"No one was around, Louis, this was very late, and it was very dark out. Worst case scenario, they would have seen my silhouette."

"I don't know a lot of people as tall as you," Louis mentioned, "Sure, you're not _freakishly_ tall, but have you not noticed that the majority of men living round here are more around the five foot nine or ten mark?"

Harry groaned aloud in irritation. "Right! Okay! Then I'm going to prison, right?"

"Don't be like that, I'm just considering all the options." Louis rolled his eyes, and felt thankful that Harry could not see it. "Do you think you could just lay low? I mean, you're hardly on the radar of the police up here, and at least I'm not linked to the suspect this time."

"I'll try. I'm just having very bad luck at the moment, it seems. My car stalled on my way here this morning and I had to get out to fix it; shitty day at work so far and it's only been a couple of hours; I keep getting hit with a load of problems, and now this fucking news."

Louis really wished he could hug Harry at that moment, to soothe him and rub his back and tell him it'd all be okay, even though it really wouldn't.

"I'm sorry to hear that, love. Just try to keep a positive mind for now, we will talk more when you're home."

"Right. Love you. Bye." Harry abruptly hung up, before Louis could even respond, leaving Louis feeling alone again.

Harry was in a really shitty situation, it was worrying. As if the situation with Marcus and his little parade of bellend mates wasn't enough, now there were Harry's dark consequences to deal with, if it came to him getting found out.

Louis decided he would try to get a bit of reading done again, considering he needed a bit of escapism to clear his head from the overpowering dread crowding it, so he did begin to do that. He would have maybe even read an entire chapter, if Niall hadn't decided to call him just as the plot was getting really good. He sighed, placing his book with the pages down so as not to lose his place, scooping up his mobile and swiping to answer.

"Niall, hey. How are you?"

"Hi, Louis, look... I didn't really call to make small talk today. There's a lot of chaos in the news down here at the moment, and I'm assuming you haven't heard, seeing as you're so far up north?"

Fear washed over Louis. He himself had seen some bad fucking news stories today, but something like that wouldn't get all the way back to Doncaster; dead bodies, sadly, were discovered a fair amount around the UK. 

"Only news we're getting is about what Harry did. Remember me telling you? The tally mark I found?"

Niall was deafeningly silent for a moment, and Louis thought he may had forgotten about the tally mark, but it turned out the pause was more of a pensive one, one where he thought carefully how he was going to break something to Louis.

"I remember, yeah... it's just the news down here _also_ involves Harry."

Harry definitely was having bad luck. Louis felt his blood run cold, wondering whether this was some foolish joke from Niall, then immediately berating himself once he wised up and realised it wouldn't be.

"Involves Harry how?" He grilled, voice snappy and demanding, too inpatient to stay calm at this point.

"Sorry to be the one to have to tell you, man. It's about the Charlie case, _again_. Still. It turns out Charlie's mum has threatened to sue Doncaster police if they don't properly catch her son's killer, so they're back on the case again. And they have definitely not let go that Harry's fingerprint was found... basically, Harry's wanted again, but this time hugely. His face is _everywhere._ All over the telly."

Louis was shaking his head throughout Niall's explanation, eyebrows furrowed and teeth biting painfully on his lower lip.

"Oh my God, so everybody in Doncaster is going to know? Niall, what else did it say on the TV?" Louis stressed, a strain in his voice as he held back panicked tears.

"It said there's a reward for anyone who can find him, Lou. Something like fifty thousand pounds, I think it said."

Louis fell forwards onto the bed, his face sinking into the sheets, and muffled a groan of frustration. How could this be happening again? They were getting hit by a whirlwind of it, all at once, like it was blocking Harry in from all directions, pushing him towards prison. 

How was Louis supposed to physically tell Harry what was happening in Doncaster? And how many people had known where Harry moved to? There was, of course, Louis' family (who must have seen the news by now and panicked). Harry may have also told his old boxing pals back in Doncaster, but they could probably be trusted not to turn Harry in. This was awful. Harry was a fugitive whose former friends in Doncaster couldn't be trusted anymore, not when money was a reward. A sad number of people would turn on their friends for a good sum.

"Louis?" Niall's voice sounded from the phone, reminding Louis that he had been in silence for a good minute or more, leaving Niall hanging. He patted around for his phone, head still amongst the fresh, tousled bedsheets, and held it to his ear. He muffled a sound in response, showing Niall he was still there listening and acknowledging.

"Try not to worry about it, man. You two are hours away from here, I reckon you'll be fine." Niall tried to reassure, despite there being an uncertainty to his own words. "It's that detective Davidson I keep seeing on TV, the one who you think has something against Harry, remember? He's banging on about how he's certain it's Harry, that all the evidence points there. Then there's Eleanor and all her friends at school going mad, asking me if Harry's kidnapped you and is holding you hostage."

Louis lifted his head finally, face sweating. "That's enough, Niall, I don't need to hear any more. But thank you for calling and making me aware." He stated, very monotonously. "Please do keep me updated. We can't have anybody knowing where Harry is, nobody who will give him away."

"Of course. I'll let you rest now, you sound tired."

He wasn't tired - just drained.

"Yeah, cheers. Talk another time."

"Bye bye." Niall ended the call.

Louis physically threw his phone across the room in an instant. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to come home now, because he would have to tell him this. Harry was bound to be thrown completely over the edge by it, it would probably spiral him into an even deeper craziness.

Louis had never felt so scared. Harry was going to get taken away from him, he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry is in such a mess :(


End file.
